


My Heart's Love

by cissathebookworm



Category: Merlin (TV), The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cissathebookworm/pseuds/cissathebookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reincarnation fic. </p><p>Shameless fluff where Arthur and Merlin are reincarnations of Achilles and Patroclus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Heart's Love

**Author's Note:**

> Like it says on the tin, this is a self indulgent fic since I have a lot of feels since finishing the Song of Achilles yesterday. Also, there is not enough crossover fics in the Song of Achilles fandom. I wrote this in like basically one sitting.

When Arthur first lays eyes on Merlin he is stunned, struck as if by Cupid’s bow. Arthur covers it up with the brashness of youth and despairs as the boy’s eyes- Merlin, he learns- slam closed, shuttered against his words. Soon enough Merlin is given into Arthur’s service and he rejoices, silently vowing to win the boy over. Unused to people not falling at his feet, Arthur flounders on how to best woo him. He does not swoon at flowers like girls nor does he need saving like a child or some damsel in distress. Merlin is brave, stupidly so, and outspoken. Arthur delights in the words Merlin spits and sings at him. Even when Merlin speaks unbelievable words, Arthur finds it hard to send him away. 

 

When Merlin is in grave danger, stricken down by the mortaeus flower, Arthur is besides himself in grief and makes haste to bring Merlin back from the brink of death. 

 

Time goes on and the two grow closer, Arthur ever the more joyful as Merlin unfolds like delicate flower petals in front of him. Arthur savors the moments they get to be close to each other’s sides, relishes in the heat that Merlin emits like a sun. 

 

One day, many years into their friendship, Merlin sups with Arthur. Arthur’s eyes are warm in delight at the other boy’s presence and a smile constantly tugs at his lips. “πιο όμορφο,  _ (most beautiful). _ ” Slips past Arthur’s lips like fine wine, causing the other to stare at him. 

 

“Excuse me?” Merlin laughs in delight, “What did you call me? You know I don’t speak all those other languages like you do.” 

 

Arthur, thoroughly flustered, slips out an insult, “I was simply calling you an idiot.” 

 

Merlin smacks Arthur’s arm, “Well you’re a right prat.” 

 

Arthur grins, “You’d be upset if I was anything less.” 

 

“Hardly, I’d be happy you’d grown up.” 

 

Arthur laughs along with Merlin and the moment passes. Now moments like those come more often, Arthur forgets himself and the Ancient Greek falls easily off his tongue, as if his native language. Though confused by the dialect, Arthur always knows what he is saying. He finds himself able to understand ancient texts hidden deep in the Pendragon library, texts that none for centuries have been able to translate. 

 

Slowly dreams come to Arthur and then all in rush he remembers. He remembers his home, his glorious father, and most of all his Patroclus. A warm smile graces his face at the thought of Patroclus, his whole heart. The next morning when Merlin comes to wake Arthur, he is surprised to find the prince already awake and dressing himself. “You’re up early.” Merlin laughs. “What’s the big rush?” 

 

“I  _ am _ a grown man Merlin, I can dress myself.” 

 

Merlin rolls his eyes and sets out Arthur’s breakfast, “At least eat before you rush off to your war games.” 

 

“If I wanted to practice my war tactics, Merlin, I would start a war.” Arthur grumbles, thinking of what clever Odysseus would say to Merlin’s comment. 

 

Merlin laughs, voice ringing sweetly on Arthur’s ears. “Of course you would.” Merlin patronizes, “You love your people too much to start a war. Now your father on the other hand…” Merlin continues darkly. 

 

Arthur ignores Merlin’s comment about his father and gestures for Merlin to join him, “The cook always piles too much on, eat!” 

 

“Arthur, if someone were to come in…” Merlin finally plays the part of dutiful servant. 

 

Arthur scoffs, “Merlin, they already know you’re an incompetent servant, this would just seal the deal.” 

 

Merlin laughs, unoffended by Arthur’s words, “You’re not wrong.” 

 

The two share the meal and Arthur finds it hard to hide his adoring looks. Finally another Ancient Greek phrase slips from Arthur’s lips: “πολὺ φίλτατος ἑταῖρος  _ (my beloved partner) _ .” 

 

Merlin starts and stares at Arthur in shock, “I recognize that phrase. My mother used to always tell me the story of Achilles-” Arthur hides a flinch at the name. “-and of Patroclus. She’d always make it into some tale of great romance, though many doubt the accuracy of them being lovers. I always loved the way she told the tale. It would always end with a repetition of an earlier phrase: ‘And then with the last breath in  Achilles’ breast, he murmured out a phrase so heartbreaking that even his closest warriors turned a blind ear. “πολὺ φίλτατος …ἑταῖρος  _ (my beloved partner) _ ” he would utter so lovingly. “Πάτροκλος την αγάπη της καρδιάς μου  _ (Patroclus, my heart’s love) _ .” And then Achilles would draw his last, his spirit flying quickly to the Underworld.’” 

 

Arthur stared at Merlin for many seconds, causing the other to fidget in his spot, “How...did your mother know the Greek words?” 

 

“Oh, no,” Merlin spoke quietly now, “they were something that I picked up from an old tradesman on my journey here to Camelot. Though sometimes I think I may be going mad because I find myself speaking in a language I should not know, let alone be able to speak.” 

 

“Have you had dreams?” Arthur quickly questions, “Of a past full of tunics and sandy beaches?” 

 

Merlin gives Arthur a strange look, “How do you know this?” 

 

“I too had these dreams for several nights until the truth became clear to me.” 

 

“I suppose I will have to wait until they become clear to me too.” 

 

Arthur looks sad as he replies, “I suppose.” 

 

Several days pass and Merlin speaks nothing of that morning. Not until one day when Merlin is dressing Arthur in his armor for training does he slip, “Achilles,” He scolds, “hold still or I will not be able to properly tie this for you.” 

 

Arthur immediately stops his fidgeting, heedless of the name Merlin called him by. “You need not come today, Patroclus, I think I can handle myself well enough.” 

 

Several seconds pass before Arthur’s words catch up to him as they seem to also register in Arthur’s mind. “You called me Achilles.” Arthur looks on in awe at the raven haired male. 

 

“I suppose I did.” Merlin breathes out, “And you called me Patroclus.” 

 

“Indeed.” Arthur murmurs before capturing Merlin’s lips in a chaste kiss. Seconds pass before Arthur pulls away, Merlin chasing after his lips, finding purchase on Arthur’s pulse point. “We should stop before I’m missed at training.” Arthur tries to scold, words coming out in a breathy tone. 

 

Merlin hums and simply takes Arthur’s lips again, Arthur shamelessly indulging him. Minutes pass before Arthur finally has the will to pull away, “Later.” He promises, “We can continue where we left later.” 

 

“You promise?” Merlin questions, “You know you cannot deny me anything, Achilles.” 

 

“I never could.” Arthur replies, stroking his hand down Merlin’s cheek. Arthur steals one final kiss before leaving the room, headed towards swords practice with the other knights. Merlin smiles after Arthur, large and dopey. 

  
Later Arthur would learn of his lover’s magic and the god's will would be thwarted. Arthur would not die on Camlann's fields, instead he would perish, old and grey, inside of his castle surrounded by friends and family, and most importantly: Patroclus, his Merlin. 


End file.
